Storms in Blue Skies
by obsidianstarlight
Summary: Bjorn's raid from Moorish Spain brings back more than Ivar expected. will he be able to handle this exotic creature or will her fire consume him? Bjorn/ oc Ivar/ oc now readable :D
1. Chapter 1

Algeciras

I sat on my platform. Just as I did every day, my legs curled in at my side, watching as shadows moved across the ceiling- my only sense that a breeze ran through the city today. Yet here in my cage I sat. Waiting. Always I was waiting for the words.

''have you heard today, al'iilhia?''

I looked at my plump master with the dead silver eyes he was used to. He stared for moments then turned to his sickly advisor in exasperation.  
''she sees nothing. She says nothing. What am I to do with this al'iilhia that tells me nothing.''

The advisor spoke in a hushed and desperate tone. ''please sire, have faith. Allah has marked her as his vessel. Even though she is a heathen- Allah is in even the spider's web.'' The snivelling man looked into my eyes for a split second before whipping his head away, frightened, of what my eyes might see in him. I didn't care about what schemes festered in his head. My accursed eyes moved back to the shadows dance over painted stones. A zephyr infiltrated the room unexpectedly- I hungrily inhaled the sweet floral scented that flowed in. orange blossom wrapped in the dizzying salty, fresh sea air.

Then the whispering started. ''they come. They come on the wind and cut through the waves.''

I looked to the two men in the room with hot anger flaring in my eyes. I was met with curious stares. They were silent. The master approached with a tentative hand reaching towards me. His eyes held an eager excitement. It repulsed me. As the meaty mitt cross into the ring of light which streamed in from the skylight above me, I made to warn the bastard. I lunged from my position snapping my teeth inches from his fingers to land on my palms. The slapping of my flesh on the marble echoed in the chamber soon joined in harmony by the tinny ringing of the swords which were unsheathed. As the guards leapt from the shadowed corners to pull the master behind their wall of blades I sniggered. I half expected the balahat haram-zadah to piss himself. I receded from the edge of my pool of light to rest once more in my previous position. Again ignoring the fools. I let out a cruel chuckle at imagining the shame he would feel if he did piss himself.

All the guards who were so willing would be put to death for witnessing it. Not to mention the base advisor who cowered against the wall.

Apparently what amused me did not touch the master. His face bloomed into a red ball of pompous fury. He had always had a fat face but now it had blown up into a balloon of impotent anger- what could he do? I was al'iilhia. The word curdled in my head my lip turning up into a menacing snarl. That stupid word had taken so much from me. What else could they take without wasting my potential?

''that's it!'' he screamed with the built up frustration of the last six years etched into the words as they bounced off the walls of my small cell. If any more emotion had been forced into such few words I thought the blue and gold tiles might rupture around the room. The guards sheathed their swords and stood to attention as the seething man stepped forward his finger raised as a rod of judgement. I smirked still, as I saw that he kept it out f my column of light– safe distance. This only goaded him further. ''you! You will be taken to the harem and I will have you this night! Then to the men! And finally to the dogs! You will fall from Allah's light and become wicked sahira! Let us see if you still smile after that you whore!'' he stared, searching my face for fear. The only fear to be found in the room was the twitch of the guard's brow and of course the whimpering of that damned mollusc of a man.

Finding this to be the case the master whirled around, his long robes gliding on the air as they trailed behind him, as he stormed out. He was quickly followed by the others. The last guard slamming the heavily gilded wood doors before I heard the familiar turn of the key.

Once more I was left alone. Today was going to be different after all. First the fichfich with its commonly cryptic message and now I was to be used as a whore and made into a wicked witch. He left out the part where I would be stoned to death but I suppose it was implied.

I looked around the chamber which had been my cell for six years. A kind of melancholy descended as I took in the beautifully intricate gilding on the walls which covered the iridescent azure blue tiles. It was like staring into the midnight sea and seeing firelight reflected. The great gold doors were decorated with two large peacocks whose tails directed a thousand eyes each my way. My hand fell limp onto my platform. The white tiles decorated with red suns. It was cool but tonight it would be warm charged by the sun's heat. I looked up and studied the window above me, hexagonal in shape, cut into thick marble. The thick rim was lined with mirrors which always directed the light of the sun and moon into my space. Would I see the sun again- even the moon- before I died? The thought of actually seeing the sky made me excited- no matter the circumstance. I began to sway as I felt the imagined breeze and tickled my fingers through the reeds. I was filled with the warmth of summer under the azure sky. The whisper crawled slowly over my lips 'Madar…' a flash of red tainted the memory. But I continued on in my melancholy trying to hold in the dead screams.  
Before long my reverie was broken as guards filed in followed by women who wore servant's garb. The women directed their sights to the floor. It was not uncommon. Most of the people who came here entered into my gilded cage with an air of reverent respect. And usually left in a storm of heated words.

The guards did not show such respect. In fact, the now held leering expressions with eyes which undressed me, salivating at what was to come.

I rose from my position and all took a startled step back. It was curious how the men could fear me and yet let their base desires push them to ravage me later. Peculiar creatures.  
I stepped down off the raised dais to be escorted by the group to the bath. It was predictable that the master would want me cleansed for him to sully me. And then I would be useless to the people of Allah. At least it would be a continuation of what I had been for these years of imprisonment.

They had needed me pure. Needed me to be worthy of hearing the guidance of Allah. But I remained silent. When the fichfich drove me to tears I remained death to the master's desperate yells for an explanation. And even when the hilm took hold blinding me, burning horror or ecstasy into my mind's eye, I stayed silent.  
They took me from my home to be a tool and Allah be damned I would not give them anything of use. Not again.

In the bath, I relished the radiating warmth that came from the steaming water. I didn't enjoy people touching me so as the maids approached they quivered in response to my glare. They back away their eyes darting to the shadows of guards on the door. They weren't looking for help. No, they were looking at them in fear knowing that if they couldn't follow their orders they would be punished.  
I sighed defeated by my morals which somehow still controlled me. I couldn't let these young women be beaten for being given a shitty job. I looked away from them before commanding them to work with an abrupt clap of my hands.  
They rushed over, clearly wanting to get it over with. As they began to wash me I noticed the small gasps and wide eyes that were shared by all who looked at my bare body. I was well formed. Ample bosom and a fairly toned body. In my hours locked alone, I was able to practice the little fighting skills I knew from childhood- what else was there to do but fantasise beating the bastards to a pulp.

No it was not my body's form that had them shocked. It was instead the pattern that adorned me. Coiling around my body were the intricate designs of the superstitious bastards who first found me. I looked over the shapes and words that covered my body.

I could still remember the blinding pain as they cut each detailed image into my skin.

The strange events of being tied to a table in a fire lit cave, men and women drawing the designs on my naked body and then the horror as they brought out the small blade. They spent nights cutting into my flesh and treating the wounds. Now I was a bronze doll covered in pale scrawled designs. Ridiculous people. When I was brought here the first thing they did was paint me in black and gold henna. It had been redone only a few days ago. What a waste for it to be bloodied I sighed internally.

'Khanam, may we wash your hair?'' one of the younger women spoke, ready with jug and oils. I nodded before leaning back to rest my head on the lip of the bath as the woman took a hold of my caramel waves. She brought them to her and began washing and massaging my scalp. I eventually relaxed as the women continued their work. Unfortunately, it was all cut far too short as the eunuch of the harem who walked boldly into the bath house. He approached the edge of the bath and stared down at my nakedness with no reaction. It was not unexpected. The eunuchs were trained from near birth to guard the harem and sacrificed much for the status it gained in this society.

The women paused in their work to look up to their superior for instruction. Before answering their expressions he dragged his eyes across my body before addressing them.  
''she is clean.'' He stated with authority. ''purify her and dress her- quickly.'' He gave his simple instructions in a monotone but I knew from experience that it carried the underlying threat that the task was to be done swiftly or face the punishment. He glared into the eyes of each woman before looking to me. His brown eyes looked with a heated emotion that I had not seen for a long time- hatred. But as I stared back I knew the hatred was not for me in particular- it was for my fate, and my part in it.

It was a fact that my defiance of the master that had led us to this conclusion. If I had behaved well and given the master all the help and guidance he demanded then perhaps I would have lived a long life till the next oracle could be found.

I smiled a sad and knowing smile. I had already accepted my fate and I didn't wish any ill will on those who were under the boot of the ones I actually hated. The eunuch's face softened slightly showing visible pity in his eyes before noticing the maids had remained still. ''now'' he boomed punctuated with two claps which hit the walls and bounced around. He turned and marched out of the room.

The women hurried to finish their work. They asked me to exit the water and I did so without any fuss. They then escorted me in silence to a carpet surrounded by bowls of oil and smoking herbs which mingled with the steam making the air incredibly thick. This was the cleansing.

They dried my skin with cotton and began rubbing in the oils. The scent of orange and lavender seeped into my skin. Then three elder women appeared and took hold of the bundles of herbs, which smouldered in the wooden bowls, they began twisting the smoke t their will. Pushing and pulling the grey curlicues to have the wrap around my body and rise into my face; it soothed the quickened heartbeat which I had not noticed. Even I was human it seemed.

The smoke floated in waves on the steam lapping against the white tiles which covered the walls. The tendrils settled on the draping clothes above me which filtered in the sunlight creating blues reds and purples to dance on the floor as the breeze from the windows rocked them. as the women finished I looked to the window. It was open but latticed with dark wood. I saw through it lush greenery of the garden; trees, grass, shrubs all lining paths which ran towards a great marble fountain with gilding and mosaic designs decorating it. I felt the urge to bust through the thin lattice and escape.

A stupid thought. It was the central garden after all.

When my focus came back to the room I noticed a young maid stood wide-eyed, fearful that I was about to engage some plan of escape. I smiled sweetly trying to ease her worry. It worked as, after the initial shock of my small expression, she smiled back all be it sadly.  
''Khanam?'' it was one of the older maids. I looked to her curious. Her eyes appeared to be brimming with water. ''we- we are finished, Khanam.'' She said almost choking on her words. I straightened my expression and nodded before extending my arms outwards waiting to be dressed. One step closer.  
They dressed me in scarlet clothes. Each piece of material was dotted with silver and gold- embers. At least I was being dressed up to be destroyed.  
The cloth hung loosely on me as was the fashion for the concubines. They added a few jewels; a gold and silver necklace with a large orange stone hanging from it and a chained pair of studs which where both placed into the holes of my right ear. From the chains dangled broken stones. The scraps of other builds; beautiful in its own way. They had softly hand dried my hair to hang in loose damp curls.

The last touch to my packaging a light, translucent crimson veil sparsely adorned with jewels and embroidery. The effect was stunning; gold thread flickered under the suns stretching beams which caught the small diamonds to be thrown off in a kaleidoscope of colour. the veil was so large that four women straightened the cloth in the air before walking it over my head. When centred the women brought the gossamer down slowly around me; the cloth hovered just above my feet. In front of me, another maid quickly revealed a 6-foot mirror which just about contained my whole figure.

I was a striking vision. The master clearly liked his presents well wrapped  
I stood peering through the crimson at my reflection, entranced. A shiver began crawling up my body followed by the whispering. Like a sand pit I was being sucked in yet stood completely still. The breeze suddenly picked up and the folds of my apparel violently billowed out snapping back and forth in the trapped vortex of wind. The maids rushed to shut the window- but the damage was done. As I watched the reflection I knew- I was on fire. The heat in my blood pounded around my body as I fell backwards. Screams erupted from the young- distantly I heard the furious hushes from the elders. Hands pushed into my back before I felt the soft cradle of the floor rug. All fell away soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

hi,  
so, I forgot to note that I will be using some foreign language- mostly courtesy of google- namely some Arabic, Farsi and Norwegian  
the Farsi is being translated to the best of my ability using a Farsi/English dictionary- if you can correct me on it please do so as I am trying to learn as I go.  
for the previous chapter al'iilhia means divine oracle and balahat haram-zadah means dumb bastard as far as I can tell :)  
all translations will be at the end of the chapter- happy reading!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

I was stood on the dock. Night had long been established. I looked around quickly to take in as much information as I could. I saw Algeciras. The bazaar was bustling in the light of torches. I stood confused. Why would I be seeing a normal night? Nothing seemed out of place.

Then I heard the splash. I whipped my head around to look out to sea. Nothing could be seen in this darkness of the new moon- not even where the water met the sky. Then it came again. a splash only this time it was followed by a trickling. But I saw nothing. Until suddenly a creature of darkness glided into the oblivious light of the city. A dragon's head came silently towards me. I wanted to scream to run and warn them but I did nothing. I froze as my heart pounded and my blood ran like ice. I was afraid. So afraid I wanted to crumble and beg for help.

The dragon was a few feet away from me now. It made no sound still. Then a thump of knocking wood. And the dragon became smoke from which a monstrously large man stormed through with determination. Blonde hair. Ice blue eyes which refused the light of the city. He scowled moving closer. I fell back and landed on the soft dirt of the market. Around me, people ran, stood frozen, or charged with desperation. All screamed at their attackers. Men of darkness swept through cutting down all who could not outrun them. The lights vanished and I was in relative darkness. The forms crept through this environment and melted into shadows. Men fell limp before them until finally, they came to a set of golden doors. The lock clicked like a death knell and I saw a women in crimson weeping silent and still.

White consumed the sight and I was back in the bath house.

The maids surrounded me in silence. I realised that my back was arched off the ground, my muscles tight all over. ''calm, Sayida, calm. You are back.'' The eldest of the maids spoke. She spoke softly and kindly her face was the same. I was surprised to see something other than fear from someone who had seen me experience the _hilm_. But instead, as I eased my muscles into my lying position I allowed my head to loll to one side, I saw awe in their faces. They knelt beside me, one or two prayed, the others whispered frantically to one another. I looked to the kinder old woman seeking her help in calming the cacophony which was smashing like waves onto my rock of a head.

She raised her hands to those behind her blindly. Yet they knew their place and the whispering ceased. The elder was closest to me. She leant down to gaze into my eyes. Groggily I knew I shouldn't have let her but the _hilm_ exhausted me this time. I looked back at her lazily.

''your eyes!'' she exclaimed in a hushed voice. ''they have changed Sayida.''

I didn't respond I knew the side effects already, they would settle, so she went on to ask what I knew was on her mind. ''is it so Sayida? Have you seen something?''

This time I felt the words bubble up without my control. I needed to tell someone. Needed to save someone…

''night… run…now…'' with that I let the fatigue overwhelm me. I was released from my aching and exhaustion to be rocked by the darkness. On the horizon, I saw a storm approach on azure skies…

When I awoke it was on too comfortable cushions. I found that I did not want to wake, I wanted to sleep through reality and let them finish the matter without me present. Unfortunately one can't sleep when the hens refuse to quite clucking.

My eyes snapped open to stare into a pair of muddy brown ones. The owner who I assume had been studying me for some time suddenly screeched and jumped back into a supporting huddle of other women. All wore fine clothes and intricate henna along the lines of their hands and feet. All were beautiful dolls for the pleasure of the master. I looked into each of their startled faces and, realising that the absence of a red glazing over my vision meant they had interfered with me whilst I slept, I snarled as I had to the master of this city.

''sahira! Wicked thing- don't think you can hurt us – the master's chosen.'' It was the one who had been so disrespectful of my personal space. she was the prettiest of the women and far more beautiful than I with her slenderness and soft features. I had no doubt her bravery came from being the favourite in the harem.

But she betrayed her façade when I pushed myself up and unwillingly her whole body flinched at my movement . a cruel smile curled the corners of my mouth. I rose to my feet and stood for a moment simply taking in the sights of the room which they had put me in to await my sentence.

Silk. Silks of the finest quality hung and lay everywhere. Every surface was ornate form polished mosaic flooring to the woven tapestries which hung on the walls. The room was sectioned into veiled alcoves, I assumed to create false privacy for each of the concubines. incense filled the air of the dimly lit room smoke swimming on the night air. And it was night, I could see from the high vents which ringed the outer wall.

It was night. That meant… but what could I do? We were to die. I was to die anyway what did it matter if it was by the master's hand or by some pale behemoth's.

''at least you know your place!'' the pretty one scoffed and called for a weak giggle from her sycophants. They were annoyances that I would not bother with in my final moments. Instead of interacting I walked away. The pretty one was abashed by my rudeness and turned to face her audience.

''see how she runs from our presence like the shaytan from Allah's light.''

 _Yeah, only I'm not running._ I moved away from the entrance to the selamlik. I doubted the master would bother making his appearance tonight. No, he would be more concerned with what was coming and would flee like the rats. So on I went through two dark wood doors, guarded by trained eunuchs who would protect this place with their lives, into the haremlik.

Here where men could not enter, the more esteemed and experienced concubines reclined. I walked through the room without giving a greeting, which was an offence in and of itself, only to stop when caught by the most treacherous sin: vanity. In the small wall mirror, framed by gold, I saw my eyes. Silver tones as usual but the old maid was right they had changed. I moved closer eyes fixed on eyes. When I could reach out and touch the polished glass I saw more clearly the altered detail. Ringing my dark pupils gold bloomed like ink on the page. Half of the iris was consumed. I knew that this was supposed to happen- it was one of the fucking reasons I was here. The telltale sign that the _hilm_ had taken place. But it receded as soon as the visions left; it didn't remain _hours_ after. I examined the eye: black to gold to silver and ringed by darkest purple-black before finally white. Someone had put kohl on me whilst I was passed out…

I covered my eyes for a brief moment of laughter at the refusal of the universe to let me forget for one fucking moment that which trapped me here. In response to my sudden and humourless laughter a mumbling of distaste rolling through the room. I blushed, angry, for letting them see me like this. I swiftly turned from the mirror and sped from the room in pursuit once again of my true goal. Through another set of doors and along a dark corridor I found it. The room which was used in case of emergency- invasion.

Through heavy gilded, metal doors was a room adorned much the same as the haremlik and selamlik but this room was much smaller. It was designed to hold all the concubines in one space to await rescue whilst the city burned. I sniggered at the idea. Rescue from the beasts that were coming was impossible, best just to wait. Of course, I wasn't running to meet my death. I was near heartless but that didn't mean I was overly zealous to actually die. In the centre of the room was a small white podium currently holding a bowl of fruit that was probably thrown every day. The wastefulness alone sickened me.

I took the bowl and sat on the podium, just enough room for me to cross my legs. I placed the bowl of ripe and juicy fruit in my lap. I had refused their extravagant food for a long time now. I picked up a quince and bit into it. The juices flowed in and around my mouth. I giggled as i wiped the fruit's juice away, then I heard it. Distant and sharp in the night air a scream went up like a crazed goat in the face of a wolf. It had started, and I had a perfect view down the corridors which lead me here to see the eunuch shepherd the women my way.

I adjusted myself swiftly covering my face with the veil once more, though I lay it over my knees so as to create my own space in which to enjoy my treats- might as well die with a full belly.

The door slammed shut and women cowered in the alcove seats behind me. The call to prayer filled the city and I wanted to blot it out. Though the whimpering didn't seem like the better option. I felt the icy shiver run down my spine, fear was taking hold for real, a quiet wine escaped me. They were here. And I was going to die. I had to get a grip. I couldn't die like this! I hadn't even felt the sun for so long…

The whispering started up again and it felt like just another slap from the gods or whoever reigned above. I didn't want to listen to them now. I wanted to think of better times. To remember home.

'' Ageh baroon beshi cheek cheek bebari'' my song filled the room with my rich contralto that sounded to me as though it was not mine. It was my mother's voice, mature and strong. The women had hushed and all was silent in the harem ''Manam sabzeh misham sar dar miyaram'' I continued the lyrics and heard my line sang as a child in my head as I had done sat in my mother's lap by the open fire.

 _Tou ke sabzeh beshi sar dar biyari_ _  
Manam goul misham pahlout mishinam_

My family laughed and joked as my mother smiled down trying to get me to sleep. I felt safe in her arms…

A booming crack echoed outside. Then the scraping of metal on metal.

 _Don't think don't listen_ I begged my mind. The _fichfich_ had grown louder like a cacophony of screeching birds all crying the same words. Words that I didn't understand.

''Tou ke goul mishi o pahloum mishini''  
I sang louder than before tears stung my eyes threatening to roll over. But I couldn't let them.

''Manam bolbol misham chahchahe mikhoonam.'' I yelled with a desperation that scared me. I didn't want to die like this; consumed by the abyss.

I wanted to scream more but we could all hear the heavy footfalls outside of the door. And my song had finished…

The whispers took hold and before I could stop my head flew back with the force of the oncoming storm. The words rolled like thunder from my open mouth. But it was not my voice.

A bold and arrogant bellow spoke words that sounded sharp mellifluous and

''!hvordan de små grisunger vil grynt når de hører hvor den gamle villsvin led!''

 _!HOW THE LITTLE PIGLETS WILL GRUNT WHEN THEY HEAR HOW THE OLD BOAR SUFFERED!_

Notes:

ok, so translations-  
Fichfich means whisper  
hilm means vision  
if you see Khanam it's because I used the farsi for lady by accident :C  
according to google:  
sahira means witch  
shaytan means demon  
sayida means lady

the song is a child's song called 'you are the sky's great moon'  
i these are the lyrics i used: Ageh baroon beshi cheek cheek bebari  
Manam sabzeh misham sar dar miyaram  
Tou ke sabzeh beshi sar dar biyari  
Manam goul misham pahlout mishinam  
Tou ke goul mishi o pahloum mishini  
Manam bolbol misham chahchahe mikhoonam.  
and here is the translation: If you become the rain and rain down,  
I'll become grass and germinate.  
When you become grass and germinate,  
I'll become a flower and will sit next to you.  
When you become flower and sit next to me,  
I'll become a nightingale and will twitter to you.

and I put Ragnar's last words in *tears*


	3. Chapter 3

The door clicked, the lock undone, but it was still a boot which opened them. suddenly with the terrified shrieks of the women filling the air, men piled into the room. Not normal men. Huge, pale and bloodied they looked like demons risen from some hell. They were lead by he who kicked open the door- By the man who emerged from the dragon's shadow. He is definitely their leader, broad and strong with blonde hair that was partly shaved; the rest fell down his back in a long braid. He is followed closely by a brunette man who shares his square jaw, his stocky build. I gasped quietly as he came into the light of the small bazaar. His face is undeniably handsome, stoic and overall it screams that he is formidable in his strength. His blue eyes are that of storm clouds but they are unaffected by the fog of battle.

A younger man suddenly jumps around him in excitement and a chill ran down my spine again. the boy was wiry compared to most of the others present. He spoke to the blonde with excitement as he turned a leering gaze onto the women behind me. The blonde spoke in a deep baritone, expressing little interest in the beauties before him. They speak strange words, like those that had erupted from my mouth. I assume the words he speaks mean for the younger man to wait to have his satisfaction as the leader holds his hand up before walking on and leaving the rest of the men behind.

The large man came to stand only a few paces from me. He looked over all of the women, with exception to me, before speaking. Allah only knows what he said because the women simply whimpered and pressed themselves in huddles against the walls. The brunette spoke up then, saying something which he seemed to think was a good idea because he smirked as he came closer. The blonde nodded and now the brunette addresses us. But to my surprise, he uses a different tongue.  
''Nous ne vous blesserons pas Dites-nous qui a parlé '' he spoke softly but it didn't stop a woman cry 'Francia we are all going to die!' which obviously set off the other women crying and praying.

Francia had long been an enemy to us but still, I doubted anyone could understand its language. Then he spoke again.

''La voix de l'homme qui a prononcé ces paroles'' he raised his hands as a gesture of kindness but it was hard to see him that way when blood was splattered and smeared all over him. he threw his hands in exasperation at the barrier. The wiry one used this as an opportunity to whisper into the leader's ear. Not once did any of the horde take their eyes off of the women. But whilst this happened I realised that I knew one word that, in context, would explain the general meaning of the pillager's words- la voix. I had heard it when I was young and being shown off to an emissary. He said 'elle a une belle voix.'

Realising the master took pride in even my angry insults, that emissary was the reason I had been silent for so long.

So from context, they must have been talking about my unfortunate timing in having the _fichfich_ take hold.

I stayed still.

I may have been brave in front of the master but that didn't mean I was stupid enough to offer myself to these barbarians. But that wasn't my choice apparently.

The pretty one's voice came from over my shoulder. ''monsieur!'' she yelled as he turned from us and the young leering man stared at the women hungrily. He moved towards us but again was stilled by the leader. ''Rollo'' he spoke to which the older brunette turned around to listen.

She ran to him. landing on her knees in front of him she cried. The man, Rollo, was shocked and confused. He called something to his kinsmen to which the wiry boy shouted something; it elicited hearty laughs from all the men- aside from the formidable leader who simply gestured at 'Rollo'. Rollo lost most his smile whilst I watched the predatory smile only grow more unsettling on the face of the wiry man.

I looked between all of the men and it was the three who had made their way in so boldly who seemed akin to each other. The same jaw line in the older men, maybe still there in the boy but weaker. And the same eyes. Though the boys held the light of lust- for blood and women. Whilst the older men held worry and wear of their years. 'Rollo' seemed happy to laugh and hide his pain, but the leader… he wore his like armour and medal.

Wherever these men came from it must have been a hard land which defined or destroyed its people.

I stared at their leader. He began to lean against the wall, his eyes wandering over the women. But not with lust, no, more like he was counting goats. I felt my eyes widen in horrible realisation. They would not kill us. Well, I knew they would keep some alive, but I thought that their death would just come as pleasure for the men before they left. But I knew from this man's look. We were property. Merchandise to be traded and sold.

But he didn't look at me. was I to die here? Better yet, had I stayed still enough to mimic a statue and they would leave me? I could dream. Maybe in this low light, the veil had obscured me and they thought me a wretch. But still, I thought it better to die in this cage than be thrown into a new one. One where I couldn't see the bars and had to learn all over again how crossing invisible lines hurt so very much.

I was too afraid. I didn't like being afraid. I was done with that long ago. Why at my end did I have to relive the fear of these moments when men decided your fate.

''oi! Oi!'' Rollo called to the girl with the muddy eyes. ''tu sais, hmm?'' she looked up at him full of fear and pleading she nodded vehemently. Then her eyes, filled with loathing, darted to me. I had to stop myself from flinching as it hit me. The bitch was going to try and bargain- for her own life at the very least.

I had remained still for so long that something had grown in my chest but that look just killed it- hope. I wasn't going to make it out of this. My eyes went back to the leader, praying that he hadn't noticed the bitch's eyes go to me, I met Aegean pools which burned with the quick thinking of lightning in the storm. He knew. Damn it, he knew!

'' je parle peu'' she spoke timidly yet full of desperation. And though I couldn't speak the language I could recognise the next words, similar to ones I had heard before. ''Elle sorcière, elle parla'' She screamed pointing at me the venom in her eyes dancing with some sort of satisfaction in knowing she had doomed me. all attention came to me then. The figure atop the white pillar. Unmoving- afraid to move.

all attention came to me then. The figure atop the white pillar. Unmoving- afraid to move.

My heart thrummed loudly in my ears and I struggled to keep my breathing quiet- as if I could still slip by unnoticed.

''Bjorn?'' Rollo questioned the blonde man. His eyes had not left me. in response to his comrade, he nodded with authority as he pushed away from the wall coming straight for me.

I would like to say that I reacted. That I sprang to my feet and took him down before being stabbed and dying bravely.

But I didn't.

I still remained statuesque, feeling all the muscles in my body tense as though I was about to have a vision. But I was going to be awake for this- the pain of fear that I had hoped to only know once in my life. The man, Bjorn I took his name to be, slowly approached. Lazily his blade swung his hands, yet I knew at any moment he could turn it on me like lightning. My eyes stayed focused on the blade as the terror gripped my stomach. And hope. _Move!_ I begged my body. _Attack him!_ all in hope that if I did that then I would be cut down here and now instead of in some shack at another master's feet.

But I seemed to be frozen, rather than having any choice about it; the ice had seized my veins. The blade came up slowly. I could see the defined pattern of blood smeared and splattered over its polished surface. I could see the scarlet darkening as it dried. The tip hooked on the edge of my veil and brought it up, he stood arm's length from me leaning back to account for the blade, he bent slightly to peer amused into the tent his blade had created with the cloth. His first reaction was widened eyes and lips parting as he took in my eyes, I assumed. Then a pleased look transformed his features from handsome to outstandingly so. The quickest thought of _he must be a killer when he actually smiles with joy_ flitted across my mind.

'Bjorn?' the young and frankly, annoying boy chimed with impatience. Bjorn smirked at me before rising to lean towards his men and speak. Whatever he said pleased his men to no end. Their faces came alive as they moved into the room. Rollo grabbed the girl at his feet by the shoulders to pick her up. he probably thought that she was to be his. how wrong he was.

Once standing she threw off his hands and ran at Bjorn. He turned and laughed at what he assumed was another bout of pleading now that she had realised who was in charge. But her eyes burned with hate and she grabbed for the dagger at his belt screaming with fury ''Tue le démon''

The wrong move. As she went for the dagger Bjorn pulled his sword swiftly unsheathing it from my veil and struck her. The veil dropped heavily just in time for it to shield my skin from the splatter of blood that sprayed into the air.

The pretty doll dropped too. she hit the floor with a wet slap as her blood began to pool from the spurting wound at her neck. The shrieks of horror behind me seemed distant as I watched the spurting of blood lessen and the pool slowly moved outwards. I followed the thick line of the cooling blood as it sluggishly lapped over the barbarian's feet till it hit the podiums base. When it did I couldn't stop my eyes from finding hers. Only a moment before they looked dreadful and fiery, mud brown I had called them, like a devouring vortex. Now they were cold as the earth of winter. Glazed with the emptiness of death.

The men looked down in surprise but soon the wiry one said something and a barking laughter erupted from them, like war dogs after the doe is dead; even Bjorn gave a light chuckle. In the midst of their laughter, my small voice spoke the words ' _Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un''_ the words of their faith. As I stared into her eyes, vacant of her soul, I truly hoped that she would not be offended by my silent prayer that Allah or whoever waited for us would grant her peace. To me, she would remain a story untold.

Notes:

you know what it's like when you write something and forget what it means- yep, these french translations di that to me, surprisingly.  
but here they are:  
Nous ne vous blesserons pas Dites-nous qui a parlé -We will not hurt you Tell us who spoke  
La voix de l'homme qui a prononcé ces paroles - the voice of the man, who spoke those words  
elle a une belle voix - she has a beautiful voice  
je parle peu- i speak little  
Elle sorcière, elle parla- she witch, she spoke  
Tue le demon - kill the demon

and lastly the words Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un mean we belong to Allah and to him we shall return. they a spoken when a tragedy or death happens


	4. chapter 4

Bjorn looked down at the blood which had coated on his hardy and well-worn boots. He grimaced seeing how the blood had seeped into the leather and would no doubt stain it. He had a cruel smile when he called to the men and nudged the dead girl's body. I finally seemed to find the fire to heat my blood and move my body from its frozen state. Apparently, I just needed a special fuel- anger. The anger at his dismissive treatment of just taking this girl's life had me blistering from the heat in my blood. I pushed myself, flinging aside the bowl- now empty- from the podium to land barefooted in the cooling sludge that her blood had become. I had to suppress the churning of my stomach as the goo slipped between my toes.

Then I did something quite stupid. I had landed next to this Bjorn and found myself to be just above his jawline. I was a perfect height to act and I did. I slapped him with the back of my hand across the ear and cheek as he was turned towards Rollo to my right.

Once it was done the bravery or more likely stupidity that had flooded my body now abandoned me and it took all my strength to stay upright. There was a pause as the sound of my hit echoed in the small chamber. It had silenced the men and the women whimpered more fearfully behind me- I had basically signed their lives away. The bowl clattered to the floor behind me.

Bjorn was still. Then he reached up with his free hand to rub the reddened area. I gritted my teeth in preparation for being hit much harder. My eyes bulged as I tried my best to keep my nerve. He cocked his head to look at me whilst moving his hand away. His face was thunder. Until it wasn't it was like the wiry ones- predatory. A smirk appeared and he called out 'flammende Valkyrie!' before raising his arms to the men who all responded with hearty chuckles. Rollo's laugh paled to the others as he watched their leader with a suspicious squint. Bjorn whirled back to grab me by the throat. He lifted me with one arm and I felt my feet rise, the smacking of the sticky blood leaving my soles amplified by my shock, they hovered just scraping the wet tiles. I began to claw at his hand, staring panicked into his stormy eyes that had grown bright with excitement.

''hvitserk' he beckoned casually to the younger man. He stepped forward looking into my eyes with anger, then to Bjorn, waiting for orders of some kind. Coolly Bjorn spoke, not taking his eyes from my throat as he tested the pressure of his hand. He squeezed slightly and black circled my vision. I could only hear the frantic beat of my heart now. Then the pressure lightened.

I could breathe slightly better but his grip remained steadfast. He spoke again and 'hvitserk approached with a length of rope that had come from nowhere. I knew what he was going to do and I didn't want that. Anything but being bound. He had to pass over the still dead girl and to my disgust, he didn't hesitate to step on her back. I felt it again the fury the boiling blood and though I knew I couldn't get the best of this colossus I could damn well try on this haram-zadah. As he passed Bjorn's distance from me I stopped clawing at the hand which choked me. Instead, I gripped it for leverage and brought my foot as far behind me as I could, as quickly as I could. I felt my body rock in Bjorn's hand and, with the little strength I had spare, I sent my tensed foot right into the bastard's balls.

He keeled over in pain and the hand around my throat suddenly tightened. Bjorn spoke slowly and though I still didn't know what he was saying his expression said it all. A straight lined mouth and a slightly quirked eyebrow combined with his darkening eyes it all said clearly- behave or be punished. Also, try doing that to me seemed to be heavily implied.

I relaxed taking my hands from him and putting them up in surrender this pleased Bjorn as the smirk returned. He lowered me to the floor and released my throat. I had never been so relieved to breathe in stale, hot air before. I gulped in the air like it was going to be taken away again at any moment. Which it could have been.

Hvitserk slowly got up from the floor, clearly hurt by my kick, glaring up at me with eyes I recognised as spruce blue. They were not as pretty or intriguing as Bjorn's and held more reckless emotion. He was covered in more blood and it was through being bested rather than victory. I could tell he wanted to beat me there and then. Apparently, everyone else could as well, as Rollo gripped his shouldBjornjorn growled a low warning 'Hvitserk…'. The man brushed off Rollo's hand and moved past me throwing his rope to Rollo. I watched as he made for the concubines picking one of the youngest to take to one of the seating alcoves. She screamed and begged for death rather than defilement.

But I had to block it out. I had to focus on staying alive now. Because apparently my apathy for life had been chased away by these heathens. My body wanted to live- I wanted to survive.

Rollo approached from my right with the rope raised in front of him. he clearly wanted my hands. I realised they had fallen beneath my veil once more. The material had stains in patches along the bottom and the dotting pattern remained- the blood of the muddy eyed girl. Now that my rage was ebbing I couldn't block the cold wetness of the floor from my mind and my stomach summersaulted. Having it speckling my crimson vision made it all worse. I moved my hand out from the veil and gripped the top making to pull the whole thing off. But before I could a hand wrapped around my wrist. It was bjorn. I looked at him unable to stop the squeak of surprise and apprehension which came. I waited, my heart hammering against my chest, gaping at him whilst he found my eyes through the veil. He shool his head, slow and with clear meaning. I released the grip I had on the cloth. Satisfied he released my wrist and walked away, out of the room.

Rollo squinted his eyes at bjorn's back- something was clearly playing on his mind. I didn't have the leisure time to think more on it. I pushed my other arm out to expose both wrists to Rollo. When he again realised what he was meant to be doing he set to tying my wrists. Not before he quirked an eyebrow at me when he saw the designs which coiled around them and onto the backs of my hands. I quirked my eyebrow back at him with some false bravado. He grinned and chortled to himself.

Whilst he twisted the rope around me I clenched my fists in an attempt to make my forearm muscles bulge. A trick I picked up in my youth. Hopefully it worked for me later as rollo had bound the rough rope quite tight.

With me seen to he pushed me in the direction of the door and went to join Hvitserk. In the doorway, Bjorn waited bored, leaning against its frame. I carefully moved through the men who seeing that their superiors had chosen their women rushed into the room to claim themselves a prize. I had to swallow hard to stop from vomiting as I heard more screams fill the room.

only one translation today- yay!  
and it's a repeat - 2x yay!  
harma-zadah - bastard  
*edit - *_* there is another phrase -Flammande valkyrie- it just means fiery valkyrie.  
p.s. I might be using valkyries in this story but more the type describe here http://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/valkyries/

  
  



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